


Ocal jedną z gwiazd - Spare one star

by Ischa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-26
Updated: 2011-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-21 19:27:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel faces the consequences of what he’s done.</p><p><i>He can remember the exact day Dean called him ‘Cas’ for the first time and it was in pure disrespect (as if he needed to make it more clear that he didn’t have any respect for Castiel) and Castiel had never in his life (maybe he did, but he chose to forget) felt that surge of …something. Something new. Not quite rage, not quite anger, or…just something. And he didn’t care. Or he told himself that he didn’t care, that it didn’t matter in any way.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Ocal jedną z gwiazd - Spare one star

  
**Title:** Ocal jedną z gwiazd - Spare one star  
 **Pairing:** Dean/Castiel  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Summary:** Castiel faces the consequences of what he’s done.  
 **Warning(s):** sex, mentions of torture, spoilers for season 4.  
 **Author Notes:** The title is stolen from Budka Suflera; it’s Polish because it’s what fitted that story the best in my eyes.  
 **Word Count:** 1.583  
 **Beta:** asm-z  
 **Disclaimer:** Don’t know, don’t own, not real

\--+--  
~1~  
He doesn’t know what it was _exactly_ that made him do it. (That one and only thing.) He would like to tell himself and those in the world who might listen, that it was the first time, but it was not. (It was, but just in that it was the first time that he broke a direct order, thought about, decided against it. _Disobeyed_.) He knew exactly what he was doing as he slit his own skin (which wasn’t really his at all, just borrowed and never returned, the blood was his) and painted the exit on the wall just so Dean (that human, that stubborn, desperate human) could go and try to save his brother (who was beyond salvation).  
And he faced the consequences.  
The only thing he remembers between the flashes, eternities of pain and pain and his own screams is this one (just this one moment, over and over and over again) look of uncertainty or maybe sympathy (not pity) or gratefulness (or love) Dean gave him as he left. And he doesn’t know, doesn’t understand how that can make him bear this, make him feel alive, make him stronger. He doesn’t understand, because in all these years, eternities, bliss, crusades, he never, never felt like that. That unbalanced, that ready to bend the rules, to betray his…everything.  
Life, his superiors, _his God_.

~2~  
Castiel remembers; he remembers _everything_. The first time he saw Dean and the first time Dean saw him. (Because it was not the same occasion.) Dean wasn’t impressed; Dean didn’t even believe Castiel was what he was. It was absurd and if he could get angry, if he could muster up that energy (after all these centuries he just didn’t bother anymore, there was nothing he didn’t see, didn’t do, didn’t….yeah, been there, done that, seen it all. It was just as simple as that.) he would have shown Dean what he was capable of. But he didn’t need that kind of stuff. He was what he was and Dean would see it, would accept it and then…

~+~  
But it was not that easy. Dean was not like other humans. Castiel should have known from that first impression. As Dean saw him, knew what he was, didn’t believe what he was. Not like Castiel would have liked it. He dealt with other stubborn human beings, he dealt with non believers, he dealt with them all. (And in the end they all craved, crawled, loved.)  
Dean was different, Dean _is_ different. Dean believes. Believed from that time his dad pressed little Sammy in his arms and Dean made the first steps to be the man his dad wanted him to be, shaped him to be, he was now.  
The only good that could ever be in the world was of human source. That was something Dean believed in and no one, not even God could make him doubt that. And Castiel didn’t understand that either.

~+~  
They were dogs. It was that simple. They were no more than dogs. At the mercy of their master and their master was God. (The angel’s master was God too. Is.) But God gave them over, gave them over to them and they did their best, but they didn’t understand any of the humans, like humans don’t understand dogs, will never. And they were at their mercy and they tried their best (in the beginning, maybe because it was new) and they failed. Most of them failed. Or just didn’t care, realised that humans weren’t in fact like them and that they were superior.  
Castiel knew that. Castiel _believed_ that.  
And then came Dean along and Castiel was…not prepared. (And amused.) Dean with his ‘devil may care’ attitude (and the funny thing is, devil did care). Because Dean had seen it all too. Was loved, was betrayed, loved and failed and sold his soul and knew what he was doing and went to hell, was dragged to hell, was brought back, marked by an angel and just didn’t care. He has no respect left for any of them. He is a stray. A wild card and dangerous. (And Castiel was confused.)  
Not all of them agreed, not all of them did think they were superior. Some thought they were slaves, needed to fall, needed to be human. Needed things to change, because they weren’t right anymore.

~+~  
He can remember the exact day Dean called him ‘Cas’ for the first time and it was in pure disrespect (as if he needed to make it more clear that he didn’t have any respect for Castiel) and Castiel had never in his life (maybe he did, but he chose to forget) felt that surge of …something. Something new. Not quite rage, not quite anger, or…just something. And he didn’t care. Or he told himself that he didn’t care, that it didn’t matter in any way. But the truth is (and the truth was buried deep down, is buried deep down) that it did matter, that it made a difference. (Maybe that it was the tiny thing that pushed the scale in Dean’s favour in the end.)  
He also remembers the first time Dean prayed (and it was different from all prayers he ever heard, because it wasn’t a plea; it was a demand and he knew that he had every right to demand it – everyone who cared to listen knew that). He knew that God wouldn’t answer or even hear the prayer- he knew because God didn’t answer Castiel’s prayers either. (HE doesn’t listen anymore. And that was the bitter truth.)  
The shock on Dean’s face gave him a small thrill. (He didn’t show it.) Castiel wanted to help, but he couldn’t and when Dean screamed and threatened, he understood. (How this works, how Dean gets away with stuff. It’s this fierce loyalty – and the looks.) So he gave in, gave what he could give.  
And Dean’s ‘thanks Cas’ was all he got in return, but it didn’t matter, because he began to understand and to question and to fall. (He just didn’t realise the last thing back then.)

~+~  
He remembers thinking ‘this way lays madness’ in the split second before Dean’s lips met his own. It was short (like a human lifetime) and angry (like Dean always seems to be these days) and fierce (it burned a trail from his lips to his toes, enflaming everything in its way), and afterwards Dean looked as shocked as Castiel was feeling. (Because he knows he wasn’t looking shocked at all.)  
He didn’t know what to say, neither did Dean.  
He leaned against the wall across from Castiel and closed his eyes. Castiel couldn’t, simply couldn’t, look away from Dean. From that perfect picture of misery. From that perfect imperfection.  
“It won’t happen again,” Dean had said after an eternity of silence (Castiel knows all about eternities – and silence). Castiel didn’t believe him and he suspects that Dean didn’t believe himself either.

~+~  
It did happen again, and again and again and it got messier, more desperate; every time a bit farther. It involved tongues and hands and skin. Salty, damp skin. Human skin on human skin. (It wasn’t his body.)

“You’re not really a girl, are you?” Dean had asked. He couldn’t understand this, he wasn’t into…men. He wasn’t. Castiel knew (he knew _Dean_ ) all about it and he wanted…Castiel could see that Dean wanted it nevertheless.

“Would it make you feel better about all this?” he had asked instead. Dean looked up from the trail he was biting along Castiel’s collarbone.

“No, it wouldn’t.” And what he meant was ‘don’t lie to me, you can’t lie to me'. And Castiel understood that too.

“I’m not.” He had answered and Dean let out a moan, but Castiel wasn’t sure what the source was, because his leg pushed into Dean’s crotch at the same time. He felt Dean’s dick strain against his jeans and knew it wasn’t right, but also knew that he wanted it nevertheless.

~+~  
“I don’t…” Dean said and arched against Castiel’s hand. He felt warm and alive and moved with despair; his blood rushing in his veins (Castiel was nearly able to hear it – he could see it on Dean’s heated skin. It was beautiful). His whole body – usually a deadly weapon, was a piece of obscene art.

“I do,” Castiel had said afterwards as Dean was getting dressed. Castiel wasn’t sure what to do with this human body. He felt every pore, every little molecule of this body scream with life. (When he was new he tried it, he tried it and it gave him nothing, the simple pleasure of sex – it gave him nothing, maybe because God was there back then, and this, this was different and he didn’t know what to do with all that life inside him.) Dean looked up sharply and at him and Castiel knew that he wanted to hit him for saying it.

“I didn’t want to hear that,” Dean had said. It didn’t mean (it doesn’t mean) ‘I didn’t want to know’.

“You didn’t want me to lie either,” Castiel said and Dean did hit him.

~3~  
He was strong and he was faithful and he still is; the only difference is that he has chosen someone else.  
Someone else to be that for.  
Someone else who was worth it. Someone who would…there were so many endings to that sentence: save the world, bring it down, come back…for him.  
Maybe.

~end~


End file.
